"Why is that?" I asked, standing my ground and attempting to gain authority.
"Because I know a secret about you." John smirked at me and turned to walk away, though he continued to watch me out of the corner of his eye.
A secret. Had he seen me come out of the woods?
I wanted to chase after him and ask, but I decided not to. John would never deceive me. His behavior could be quite awful at times, but he would never deliberately try to hurt me.
The sun had begun to set beyond the horizon, and the night sky was toying with making its appearance. I made my way back to the house, hoping to reach my door before night set in.
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t understand why I'd been the one to find the journal. What was Elizabeth trying to tell me? The mystery of it intrigued me to the point where the journal had begun to take up so much of my time. It was only three weeks into my first year at Salem High and I was already falling behind in my classes. I wasn't turning in my homework, and I hadn't even begun my reading project for Language Arts. My parents had even started to notice the drastic change in my grades. They thought I was depressed because of the move. If only they knew what was really keeping me from completing the age-old equation of why does x equal y. I didn’t think that "Hey, Mom and Dad, I'm not doing so hot in school because I'm reading a journal left behind by a possible witch," would go over so well with my parents. Instead, I needed to focus more on school, so I could pull my dropping grades back up and provide a diversion for my parents to prevent them from asking any more questions.
The third-hour bell was just about to ring, and I'd only completed half of my Social Studies worksheet. I scrambled to complete the remaining ten questions, filling in any old any random answer I could think of: the secretary of state was Arnold Schwarzenegger, right?
Finally, the bell rang. I was free!
It was noon, and my stomach was calling to me, so I grabbed my books and headed for the door, smelling the fried chicken and mashed potatoes that were being forcibly served up in the cafeteria.
"Hey, Sadie, wait up," I heard Noah calling to me from behind. When I turned, I saw him running toward me, down the hall. His brown curly hair bounced on top of his head like it was on its own, personal trampoline, and his t-shirt clung to his flat stomach as he dodged students left and right, trying to reach me. I watched as he hit the ground after tripping over a book Melinda Carlisle, one of the cheerleaders, had left on the floor by her locker. Noah's books went flying out of his arms and across the gray, tiled floor. I stifled a smile as I took in the hilariously devastating sight.
Melinda turned around in time to see Noah flying through the air. She let out a loud laugh and then turned to continue gathering her things from her locker. After a quick glimpse into her locker mirror to touch up her lipstick and caked on foundation, she slammed the locker door shut and left the scene, stepping over Noah and his mess. She was wearing this vile smile that made me shudder at the sight of it. Her long blonde hair swayed from side to side as she walked down the hall and toward the cafeteria. I wanted to reach right out and pull her back by that annoyingly beautiful hair of hers, but I kept my composure.
I ran over to help Noah gather his books. Noah had been pensive and immature since I'd met him, but even I couldn’t help but notice the act of cruelty that had just taken place. The true injustice of Melinda’s actions repulsed me. How criminal could a seventeen-year-old girl actually be?
I knelt down on the gray, tile floor, trying not to notice the embarrassment on Noah's face. A bright, cherry red had quickly spread across his cheeks, causing him to keep his head down. He mumbled something under his breath too crude to repeat. Even without looking directly at him, I felt the intense heat as it radiated from him.
"Thanks, Sadie. I can be such a klutz sometimes." He shook his head, stood, and laughed.
I stacked the books I'd collected on top of those already in his arms, and smiled at him, trying to relieve him of his embarrassment.
"Sometimes I think I must have two left feet." The red on his face diminished somewhat.
"Noah, you were running fast‒did you need anything?"
We walked toward the cafeteria together, my stomach dancing at the fact that we were so close, I could smell his sweet cologne. As he talked, I noticed how much he smiled at nothing in particular. The hall was almost desolate around us, as the majority of the students were already in the cafeteria
"Yeah, look: I know we got off to a bad start, but if you would just give me a chance, I think we could be friends."
"I thought we were friends," I stated. We'd already been hanging out with Lucy at school and talking every day.
"Well, yeah, we hang out because we're both friends with Lucy, but I want to make sure you and I are cool. I mean, we're friends, right?" His boyish grin melted my heart. He was a mixture of sweet, silly, trouble, and danger‒the combination was enough to send my brain into a frenzy.
"That’s fine, Noah. No harm, no foul. I'd like to be friends."
Liar! I wanted to be more than friends, but I couldn’t tell him how I really felt, not just yet.
"Now, see: I don’t believe you. I think you're just saying that to get rid of me." He pointed his finger in my face and gave me a sad, puppy dog expression. He was so cute when he did that, my stomach did a backflip. I laughed and shoved him aside. When my hand touched his shoulder, it felt like I'd been shocked by a thousand, tiny, lightning bolts. This was intense, and a problem‒I couldn’t let my feelings for Noah interfere with getting to the bottom of why Elizabeth needed me, especially not when I was so close to having a normal life.
"Hmm, well, I don’t know what to tell you." I laughed and kept walking ahead.
"Look, I want to help. I couldn’t help but notice you've seemed a little unfocused this week. Is anything wrong? I mean, if you’re having trouble, I could definitely tutor you, or something."
"I think I'm fine." I lied. I hated to admit my attention had been anywhere else but on school lately.
"How are you doing in Geometry?" He questioned me with authority, like he was my parent, looking for a straight answer. His fatherly tone was cute, and as always, he had me trying hard not to smirk.
I tried to sound self-assured, but I couldn’t lie‒I was doing horribly in Geometry. "You don’t have to do this," I stated, "but I can see you're not going anywhere, and I could use the help, so I guess I'll take you up on your offer." I smiled and nudged his shoulder with mine.
"I'm really good at math. I could come by sometime and help you with your homework." He sounded a little too enthusiastic about working on my math problems, but I couldn’t turn down an offer to hang out with him.
"That'd be wonderful. I have a test in Geometry on Friday. If you could stop by, maybe tonight, and help me prepare, I'd really appreciate it…if you don’t already have plans."
"No! I mean, uh, no plans. Just give me your address and tell me what time to come."
"How about six? I live at 353 East Elm Street.
I'll order a pizza."
"That sounds great! It’s a date." He winked at me and smirked his devilish grin.
"Whatever you say." I laughed, trying to hide the ridiculously large smile I felt spreading across my face.
"After tonight, you'll be so charmed by my amazing math skills that you'll have to try hard not to throw yourself at me." He winked again and then turned to walk away.
Man, he was so cute, I was in trouble!
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. Every turn I made, Noah seemed to be there, waiting to greet me and remind me of our study date.
After school, I rushed home to clean up the house. My room was still a disaster area, but I wasn’t going to be showing him that portion of the house, anyway.
I pulled up into the driveway and noticed that my parents’ cars weren't there. Inside, on the kitchen counter, was a note from my mom:
Sadie,
Your father and I are going to Boston to have din
ner tonight. I've left $20 on the counter. Order yourself something to eat. We'll be back late. Don’t wait up.
Love,
Mom
So, I was going to be alone with Noah. Should I call my parents and let them know a boy was coming over? I'd never had this dilemma before‒no boys had ever paid any attention to me in California.
I looked at the clock: it was 3:30. I had plenty of time to clean the living room and kitchen. I put the dishes away, cleaned the counters, and threw out all the newspapers that had been collecting on the kitchen table.
I surveyed the clock again: I still had an hour left before Noah's arrival. After changing my outfit about a million times, I decided on a pair of dark denim jeans and a tight purple tee. I did a quick walk about the house, making sure there were no embarrassing pictures of myself in sight, and decided to wait for Noah in my room, while reading Elizabeth’s journal.
I ran up to my room, collected the book from its resting place, found a comfortable seat on my bed, opened the journal slowly, rubbing my fingers against the coarse pages before delving into the story, with a sigh.
Weeks later, upon entering my yard, I saw a black crow perched upon the porch. It seemed to stare at me as it paced to and fro. I rushed up to the porch, flapping my arms in an effort to scare it, and it flew away and into the woods. A cold chill ran down my spine. Though I'd become weary of such events of late, I attempted to brush the scene from my memory. Superstitions had begun to frighten me, and seeing the black crow on my porch didn’t help matters. I opened my front door and was swept away by the smell of apple pie‒Mother must have been cooking. I strolled into the kitchen, my mouth salivating in anticipation of tasting the sweet desert, but the room was empty, the house, deathly silent.
I investigated to find a large man, standing in the living room with my father. He had a short brown beard covering his face, and his rotund stomach toppled over the waist of his pants. My mother sat in the chair next to the window throughout the conversation, her eyes upon the two men. Upon entering, my father turned to me and asked me to sit next to my mother. An awkward feeling crept into the room making me uneasy as I.
"Sir, we will speak again, tomorrow," the large man said, and he turned to leave, lowering his hat when he passed my mother, announcing, "Good night."
"Who was that?" I inquired. A mysterious silence filled the room.
"A friend, dear, a friend."
My father grabbed my mother’s hand, kissed me goodnight, and the two of them left me standing in the room, alone.
I walked up the steep staircase leading to the bedrooms. When I passed my parent’s room I heard muffled voices, and stood outside, daring not to breathe for fear of being heard. The events transpiring behind those doors would eventually bring my fate to light.
My parents were arguing about my sisters. Their names were mentioned in conversation numerous times. Mother sobbed softly as she used words such as witchcraft, lies, woods, and convicted.
I took a step back and reached for the banister, but my hand slipped, and I fell to the floor, landing on my back with a thud. My parents' bedroom door swung open, and they rushed out to me. Mother wiped her tears away and expressed concern about my fall. They didn’t have to ask me what had happened‒the look of disappointment and shock on my face must have said it all.
My father held out his hand to me, lifted me from the ground, and led me into their room. My mother followed behind us, shut the door, and sat next to me on their bed. (I still remember the quilt that lay on top of the sheets that my grandmother had crafted when I was still a baby). My father stood next to the window, staring out, as if questioning the night sky, and I began to grow fearful at their demeanor. Neither of them spoke a word, as my mother gently massaged my hand, and my father stood expressionless.
With a lingering hesitation he finally spoke: "Elizabeth, what do you know of those that hurt these innocent souls?" indicating the horrors plaguing Salem of late.
I lied and told him I knew nothing. "Why do you ask?" I inquired holding back tears. I was not upset because my father had accused me of having information; I was upset because I had lied to my father.
"You are old enough for your mother and I to speak to you plainly. Annabelle Jones has accused your sisters of practicing witchcraft with her after Governor Bradford pressured her to reveal those in her circle. Pastor Greene examined them earlier this afternoon. A trial is set for tomorrow at dusk."
Father turned back to the window, gazing into the night. Not knowing how to reply, I began to sob, uncontrollably.
"Dear, please, do not cry. Everything will be all right," my mother said in an effort to calm me, but her words were not convincing. When I asked, my parents informed me that my sisters were in the town jail, where they were ordered to remain until trial.
My poor sisters‒these two, sweet children, locked into a cell and treated like criminals.
Chapter Twelve
"Sadie, is anyone home?" There was a pounding at the front door. I'd been so enthralled by Elizabeth's story that I hadn't heard Noah’s car pull into the driveway.
Noah called again, and I quickly closed the journal, leaving it on my bed, and rushed down the stairs, skipping every other one.
When I reached the foyer, I took a moment to regain my composure and allow myself to calm down a bit. I made one last check of my hair in the mirror before I opened the door.
Noah was standing on the porch, books in hand. He looked casual in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black sweatshirt.
"Hey, Sadie, is everything okay?"
"Sorry, I was reading and lost all track of time," I said.
I smiled and opened the door wider to allow him to come in. He smelled like he'd just showered, the scent of his sweet body soap lingering behind him.
"Wow, your house is really nice. I've never been in one of these historic houses before."
"What do you mean?" I was curious by his statement.
"I live in the suburbs, but these houses were built in the sixteen hundreds‒the craftsmanship is amazing." He eyed the rooms as he walked around, and I followed his lead. I hadn’t really paid a lot of attention to the house itself, but now that I was taking the time to admire the space, I noticed how beautiful the house really was.
"I guess we should get started. I'll order the pizza if you want to put your books down in the kitchen. There should be some cola in the refrigerator."
I grabbed the phone and dialed the pizza shop number from the menu my mom had left for me.
We jumped right into the assignments. Noah was a great teacher. He was able to explain the concepts in a way that made it easy for me to understand. At school he was this nerdy, mischievous guy, but sitting in my kitchen, he was a brilliant and patient tutor; he really was amazing.
We stopped working when the pizza arrived. "Do you want to watch some television? We
could take a short break." I rested my chin on my hand when I realized how tired I was. Studying math wasn't fun, and I knew that trashy television and pizza was just the thing I needed to clear my mind.
Noah jumped up to follow me to the living room. There was only one small couch that faced the television set‒the rest of the furniture was deliberately placed around the large living area to allow for different seating areas‒and we were forced to sit next to each other.
Noah looked anxious when he sat down next to me, as our shoulders touched, and there was only a small space separating our legs. I wondered what was going through his mind. I secretly hoped he was as nervous as I was. My legs shook as I wracked my brain, trying to think of something to talk about.
"So, Sadie, I'm glad you invited me to come help you." Gone was the silly tone he usually spoke with, and he was suddenly very serious. He stared straight ahead at the game show playing on the television.
"I should be the one saying thanks, I mean, you really helped me understand this stuff."
I turned my head to look at Noah. He had a small grin creeping onto his face.<
br />
"Hey, Sadie, um…"
Here it was. The moment I'd both hoped and feared. He leaned in closer, his breath so close I could feel its warmth and smell it’s the minty freshness. My heart skipped in my chest and my arms tingled at the closeness of his body as I moved myself closer to him, leaning my head in, and waited for his kiss.
Before he was able to finish his sentence, before I knew what he was about to say, my parents opened the front door.
"Sadie, honey," my mom called from the foyer, "are you home? Our reservation was canceled, so we decided to stay and eat here, in town."
The moment had been ruined. I wondered if she even noticed the car parked next to our mailbox.
Noah and I jumped apart, and I gave him an apologetic smile. "Hey, Mom, we're in here." I tried to sound calm, and not like I was just about to have my first kiss.
"We?" I could hear the curiosity in her voice. "Is Lucy here?"
Noah jumped up and gave me a strange look. I told him to follow me into the foyer and put on a happy face as I tried to mask my anger. I wanted that moment to happen more than anything, and I wasn’t sure if he'd ever try again.
"No, Mom. It's my friend, Noah. He came over to help me study for a math test I have on Friday. We were just taking a short break."
A mischievous grin spread across my mom’s face when she saw Noah appear behind me. "Hello, Noah. It's so nice to meet you again." She continued to smile at me as she spoke with Noah. I was mortified at her immature behavior.
My dad walked into the room, glaring at us as he took in the situation. From the look on his face I could tell he literally wanted to throw Noah out the door, but after a bit of prompting from my mom and me explaining that we were just working on homework, he finally gave in and shook Noah’s hand. He also gave him a quick once-over, gauging to see if Noah was worthy of his little girl's time. He seemed content with the situation and gave me a small smile. Noah kept glancing over at my dad’s gun collection in the den, smiling nervously; my dad saw it, too.
Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1) Page 8
